February Spark
by karamelj
Summary: Nick Jonas and a young girl meet in the hyped up city of New York
1. Chapter 1: On the Way and Dinner

**THIS IS NOT A JONAS STORY! Nick Jonas is a main character and Joe and Kevin Jonas appear in it, but no one else from the JONAS TV show.**

***Cora***

Mom passes back the lunch bag and it lands on my lap. I look up and glare at the back of her head.

"_Don't bother to ask,_" I think sarcastically. "_I'm not working on my _career_ back here or anything!_"

We're on our way to New York to see my brother Aiden with my dad, grandparents, and Zia Maria who doesn't speak a word of English. This is going to be such a fun day!

Not.

Do people still do that anymore? It seems so nineties. How about 'psych'? Do they still do that?

Where was I? Right. New York.

So we're all in my grandfather's old Rendezvous and I'm in the seat furthest from civilization listening to Taylor Swift and the Jonas Brothers blaring in my headphones. I hate driving to New York because I'm always stuck in the trunk. I am this close to being serious. All of the food that my grandmother _had_ to pack because 'poor Aiden, he no eat and he get so skinny' and have of our luggage has me crushed against the side of the car and every five seconds I hit my head against the ceiling.

I really miss the bus my best friend Lynne and I took when we went back in December. They played movies for us.

Anyways.

All I can think is: I can't wait to go to college. That will make me exempt from ever having to go and visit Aiden in New York for four years. And it's not that I don't love my brother, but is _he_ going to spend six hours in a car to go and visit me? I don't think so!

Whatever. Just two and a half years and I'll be in Vermont. I've gotten e-mails from a few schools up in Burlington that have great writing programs. On top of that, it's in Vermont so it's pretty much ripped away from society and they won't come visit me as often as they visit Aiden. No one skis and it's cold in Vermont so they won't want to come. Yay!

Okay, I'm going to stop digressing now.

My phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. Yeah, I'll get it in a second. Not! How the heck am I supposed to reach my phone when I can barely breathe under all this stuff? Whoever it is, they'll have to wait.

We go to a rest stop in Connecticut and I find out who tried to contact me two states ago. It's my best friend Lynne.

"Having fun?" her message reads. I'm not even going to bother replying to that stupid comment. She knows that this is one of the most boring things in the world.

Geez! Does anyone in this car chew with their mouth closed? I shove my headphones in and turn the volume up to drown out the noise.

Great! And now we've started coughing. You cannot take a car ride without having everyone get on your nerves.

Maybe if I go to sleep no one will annoy me and I can finally get some peace. Yeah, that'll work. To be continued…

Okay, so now it's one-thirty and we're in the lobby of Aiden's dormitory, waiting for him to come and get the food. I pull down the tip of my hat as a really cute college boy walks by, looking in my direction. Of course, my grandmother, who thinks she's my wingman or something, nudges me and raises her eyebrows. I try to morph into the couch.

Aiden comes out of the elevator with his friend Sasha and his roommate Scott. They come over to greet us.

"Hey, guys," Sasha says. "How's it going?" Hugs are spread to everyone. Aiden gets and extra big hug and kiss from everyone, but me because I'm just his sister and, let's face it, I wasn't as worked up about losing him as everyone else.

"Hey," I say. "What's up?"

"We need to talk later," he says in his big brother voice.

"Okay," I reply. I know that he's talking about what was supposed to happen yesterday.

So everyone chats for a bit and we prepare to depart, planning to meet up at dinner. Aiden looks at Scott as if to say, 'Tell them'.

"I just found out that an old friend of mine is in town," Scott says. "He's only here for the weekend and we were planning to catch up. Would it be okay if he comes tonight?"

"Sure," Dad says. "We'll get him a ticket for the play too."

"Thank you, Mr. Royce," Scott says. "That's very nice of you."

We all say goodbye and I'm a little confused. Scott smiled at me really weirdly when he mentioned his old friend.

***Nick***

I stare out the window into the street. For once it's not riddled with girls. It's either because no one knows I'm here or they all think I'm at the Plaza or something. I knew people would think that so I'm staying at the Sheraton. It's non-descript and in mid-town which makes it an ideal place to stay.

I turn back to the room as my phone rings. The caller ID says it's my friend Scott, an old friend of mine from New Jersey. I was planning to catch up with him this weekend because he goes to college here and I'm in town.

"Hello," I say, answering the phone.

"Hey, Nick," Scott says. "What's up?"

"Not much. You?"

"Nothing. Look, my roommate's family's in town and they invited us to dinner and a play. Want to go?"

"_Of course, I've got nothing better to do than waste my time with your roommate's family,_" I think sarcastically.

"Count me out," I say out loud.

"They've got a daughter," he presses.

"Even more of a reason not to go," I say, but my curiosity has been aroused. "What does she look like?"

"If you want to know, you have to come," Scott taunts.

"Come on, man. Don't do this." I pause for a second; sure I'll regret my decision at some point. "Fine, I'll come. Meet me in the lobby at six o'clock."

I hang up the phone and get dressed. I put on a pair of khakis, a blue shirt with no tie, and my favorite hat. It's black with a red feather sticking out of the left side. I pull it down so that my face is hidden. Then I take a scarf and wrap it around my neck and cover my mouth and flip up the collar of my jacket. I probably look like a terrorist, but that's better than looking like me.

"Hey," I say, pounding Scott's out held fist when I get to the lobby just after six. "Shall we?"

"Yeah, it's down on 46th," he replies. We make our way to the restaurant and get there just in time to be seated. The host leads us to a back room where set for ten and puts up a screen to give us some privacy.

I take a good look at the family because I already met them. There are three seniors who scream Italian to me. Aiden's grandfather frightens me somewhat with his dark Sicilian skin, broad shoulders and deep, booming voice. The other two are women, one who hasn't spoken and another who seems like the stereotypical old lady. The father is Black Irish, I can tell because his skin is whiter than the shirt he's wearing and his hair is dark brown. The mother kind of reminds me of my own mother with her kind smile and family-oriented aura. Her daughter looks just like her, but taller and much younger. She looks like a typical teenager, but there's something about her that lets me know there's something different about her.

I pull off my jacket, scarf and hat. I see the girl's eyes widen and brace for the scream.

"Nice hat," she says instead. "I like the feather."

"Thanks," I reply. "Yours is pretty cool too." It's black with a huge flower on the side. I extend my arm. "Nick Jonas."

"Cora Royce," she says shaking my hand. "You know, I thought you looked familiar. You play Edward Cullen, right?" I laugh. Sarcasm is so refreshing, especially when someone obviously know who you are.

"Jacob Black, actually," I say. "Can't you tell?"

"Right, sorry," she says. "I can't believe those bulging biceps." I flex my arm and she laughs. I make a note to get to know her better.

"Cora," Mr. Royce says. "You know who Nick Jon_as_ is." Cora's laugh breaks off and she looks mortified.

"_DAD!_" she hisses. I pretend that I didn't notice anything. I'm used to fathers doing that so they can try to look cool. I'm also used to them glaring at me and telling me to stay away from their daughters because, of course, I'm interested in his nine-year-old.

I find out that all the women are named Maria in some form or another. One of elder women tells me to call her Nonna then she winks at Cora, who immediately tries to disappear into the wall. I feel so sorry for her and become determined to be her friend.

Everyone sits down and I hold out the chair for Cora as a gentleman should. She blushes and thanks me as I sit down next to her.

"Do you mind?" I ask politely with a smile.

"No, no, it's fine," she says, smiling back.

We all order the three pasta dinner. It's actually quite delicious. There's spaghetti in marinara sauce, mushroom ravioli in a butter sage sauce and oricchietti with Italian sausage.

"You shouldn't be taking seconds," I tell Cora. "You haven't finished your spaghetti marinara."

"The marinara is so simple," she explains. "I can have it anytime. The other two are special, so I'll eat them now and have some spaghetti marinara next weekend."

"That's a smart decision," I say.

"That's because I'm a smart person," she replies. I make a face and shake my head just to annoy her. She smiles and elbows my arm softly, which makes me smile too.

We finish our diner and start towards the Majestic Theater. Nonna needs help walking, so she grabs Cora's arm.

"My leg hurts too," I say to annoy her. Cora gives me a look that says 'I-want-to-slap-you-right-now', but links arms with me anyways.

We get to the theater and find our seats. We're three rows back from the front in the center. Cora is bursting with excitement.

"What's so great about these seats?" I ask.

"You'll see," she says, grinning mysteriously. "I love 'The Phantom of the Opera'. It's my second favorite play."

"What's your favorite?"

"'Peter Pan'."

"You're kidding. That's my favorite."

"No way!"

"Yeah, when I was eleven I wanted to be Peter. Then turned twelve and found out why he was always played by a girl. "

"That's right. So back off my role, pal."

"_You_ want to be Peter?"

"Why not? It's an alto part, which means I can kind of sing it."

"I'm sure you'd make a great Peter." I smile at her. Cora goes silent for a minute.

"By the way," she says. "You're wrong in 'Fly with Me'."

"How so?" I ask.

"Peter Pan and Wendy don't turn out fine. Wendy grows up."

As the play begins I realize two things. One, she makes a valid point, and two, that's the first time she's even hinted at my fame.

She really is different.


	2. Chapter 2: Changing

**It is most likely that none of the favorites are true; however, the part about Nick Jonas' performances is true, he was in all of those.**

**I do not own 'The Phantom of the Opera', neither the show nor the song.**

***Cora***

I'm fuming in my seat. I cannot believe that woman was hired.

"That woman needs singing lessons," I say to Nick.

"I think she's fine," he says. "What's wrong?"

"She is _soooo_ nasal!" I reply. "And that's fine for pop or rock, but not Broadway! Does she realize she can sing from her mouth?"

"I don't understand," Nick says, scrunching his forehead. "Care to explain?"

"_Een sleep he sang ta me, een dreams he came, that voice wheech calls ta me, and speaks my name,_" I sing as 'Christine' had.

"And that's not how it was supposed to be sung?" he asks.

"_In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came, that voice which calls to me, and speaks my name,_" I sing in perfect rounded tones. The conductor turns to me. "Is there a problem, sir?" I ask politely.

"No," he says. "It's just that you're correct, it should be rounder."

"Then why doesn't she sing it that way?" I ask.

"Diva," he replies. "She doesn't listen to anyone's advice." He disappears into the pit without another word.

"Any other problems?" Nick asks me.

"Meg is the same as Christine, but she's a minor role," I reply. "Raoul is very good, but he sounds like he would make a better Phantom."

"And the Phantom?" Nick asks, almost laughing.

"Phenomenal," I reply. He raises his eyebrows and smiles. _Side note_: it is a complete lie that Nick Jonas never smiles. He's been smiling all night, _and_ he's actually pretty funny. _End side note._

"Finally, words of praise," Nick says.

"I didn't say anything bad about Raoul, I merely stated that he would be a great Phantom," I say. "La Carlotta is amazing!"

"You think so?"

"Yes! She and Christine are supposedly the same people I saw last time, but I think I saw Christine's understudy because she wasn't this annoying. Or maybe I just didn't notice how nasal she was because I didn't have Mr. Taylor until last year."

"And he was?"

"My chorus teacher. To this day, I cannot sing without hearing him yell at me in the back of my head."

"Did you have a crush on him or something?" I look at Nick, astonished that he would suggest that.

"No! Is really that hard to believe that some teachers are influential?" I ask. "I think Mr. Visca's a great teacher too, but that's because he is, especially compared to Ms. McCurty."

"It's just that normally—," he starts.

"Mind if I tell you something?" I interrupt. He nods. "_Normally_ things are different for different people, and with some people, especially people like me, the term 'normal' is irrelevant." I turn to the stage as the Entr'acte begins.

"I'm sorry, Cora," Nick whispers in my ear. "I'm used to a more usual type of girl. I could tell from the second I met you that you were different, but I forgot that for a minute."

I smile and lean my head against his shoulder for a second in apology. Then I remember that I only met him two and a half hours ago and quickly remove my head.

The second act is just as bad as the first. I decide that I'm either going to be 'Christine's' diction coach, or whatever you'd call it, or I'll be one of the casting directors in the future.

"Should I ask if you enjoyed it?" Nick asks, placing his hat on his head.

"The show was wonderful," I say. "There's just that one casting problem. What did you think?"

"I found it very entertaining," he replies. "However, I feel horrible that my previous performances are considered improperly sung to you."

"Performanc_es_?" I ask. "I thought you only did 'A Christmas Carol'?"

"How do you know about that?" We begin leaving the theater.

"My cousin was in it. I saw your name in a Playbill from when my dad went to see it."

"Who was your cousin?"

"Mrs. Cratchett. What other shows have you done?"

"'Beauty and the Beast', no I wasn't against learning a new score, 'Les Miserables', and 'Annie Get Your Gun'."

"'Les Miserables'? That's a good show."

"You've seen it?"

"Aiden was Javert."

"Really? I was Gavroche."

"That's a great part."

"He dies."

"Well, of course! It wouldn't live up to its name if it was a happy play where everyone lived. Hang on, where is everyone?" We stop outside the Shubert to look for the rest of the group and my phone rings.

"Where are you?" Mom asks when I answer. "Are you alone?"

"I'm with Nick outside the Shubert," I reply. "Where are _you_?"

"We're by Colony," she says. "I'll send your father to come get you."

"Okay, I'll just wait here with Nick," I say, looking at him. He takes the phone from me.

"Mrs. Royce?" he says. "I'll get Cora to your hotel safely….Yes, I know where that is….Don't worry, ma'am, I'll take good care of your daughter for you." Nick hangs up and gives my phone back to me. "You're never going to believe this," he tells me. "We're in the same hotel."

"You're kidding!" I say.

"I know, what are the odds of that?"

"Close to zero. Hey, quick question: are you a Harry Potter fan?"

"Not really, but I don't hold anything against his fans. I've never read the books."

I stop in the middle of Times Square. Aiden would kill me right now, but I don't care.

"Are you illiterate or something?" I ask incredulously.

"No, I've had other thing s on my mind," Nick replies with a smile. "I'll read them as soon as possible. In fact, I'll drop you off at the hotel and go buy a copy of the first book." We start moving again.

"Don't waste your time," I say, fishing in my purse. I pull out a copy of the first book and Nick laughs as he takes it from me.

"Rereading it for the fifth time?" he asks.

"Yes," I reply. He starts to laugh. "I'm not kidding." Nick's laugh dies. I pick up where he left off, realizing how odd it sounds and he joins in after a minute.

"What floor?" he asks when we reach the hotel.

"Seventeen," I reply when we get in the elevator.

"Let me guess: 1721?"

"Yes. 1723?"

"This is uncanny."

"I know." The elevator arrives at our floor. Nick goes to his door and waves goodbye as he slides his key in the door. Something comes over me and I hug him.

"Sorry," I apologize. "I'm a hugger." Nick wraps his arms around me for a quick second.

"Me too," he says, smiling. I smile too as he disappears into his room.

***Nick***

I knock three times, pause then knock twice more. I'm not sure why I'm doing this, but it's probably the best way to get to know Cora better.

"Is that your attempt at a secret knock?" Cora asks, running her hand through her hair as she opens the door.

It is _wild_! If someone's hair could explode, this is probably what it would look like. Her curls are flying all about and its volume is to the max. On top of that, she looks like a raccoon.

"Well, hello beautiful," I say as Cora leans against the doorframe. She punches my arm lightly. "Ow!"

"It was _not_ that hard," she says, rolling her eyes. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm on my way out to breakfast," I reply. "I was wondering if you wanted to join. There's this place up by the Beacon—"

"Is it by H&H Bagels?" she asks, perking up.

"You know it?"

"I love it! Hang on." Cora disappears into the room and I hear her whispering to her mother.

"Okay," she says when she returns to the door. "Can I have ten minutes to de-Medusa-fy myself?"

"Sure," I reply. She smiles and closes the door.

I'm really starting to realize how completely different Cora is from every other girl I've met. Other than her comment on 'Fly with Me' and my mentioning of my Broadway career, we haven't talked about my fame. I feel so comfortable around her and it seems like the feeling is mutual. On top of that, she is anything, but afraid to call me out.

I'm also starting to realize how pretty she is. I like how her hair is tame, but wild at the same time (except when she wakes up) and her eyes: wow! Even when she knocks on the door ten minutes later, wearing no make-up, they still catch my attention right away.

"Do you mind walking?" I ask as we reach the street. "We could take a cab."

"No, walking is fine," Cora says. We walk in a comfortable silence until we reach Lincoln Center.

"Have you ever play 'The Game of Favorites'?" Cora asks.

"No, but it seems pretty self-explanatory," I reply.

"Want to play?"

"Okay, I'll go first. Hmmm…Well, I don't have to ask what you favorite book, author or movie is…"

"_Harry Potter_ series—I can't choose one—Sarah Beth Durst, 'The Princess Bride'," she says, smiling defiantly. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "Never judge people, that's how the surprise you. What are yours?"

"_The Great Gatsby_, Mark Twain, 'Finding Neverland'," I reply. Cora nods in interest.

"_The Great Gatsby_?" she observes. "That's a very good book. Fitzgerald is a great author."

"You know, until I read it, two months ago, I thought Gatsby was a dog."

"Because everyone names their dogs Gatsby, right?" Cora nods in agreement and we laugh for a second.

We go back and forth asking things like favorite color, day of the week, music artist (Mine: blue, Friday, Bon Jovi. Cora's: black, Thursday, Rose Dawson [a friend].).

"Favorite flower?" I ask as we pass a Valentine's Day display.

"Black rose," Cora replies.

"Why specifically a black rose?"

"They're a beautiful contradiction. Roses represent beauty and the color black represents darkness, fright. You put them together and they look quite beautiful."

"You're right, I never though of that before."

"I wrote a song about them once. Well, lyrics, actually."

"You're a lyricist?"

"Not exactly, I just like writing. Sometimes I come up with lyrics, sometimes I come up with other things."

"When did you start this?"

"In fifth grade I wrote my first poem and kept going with that. It was a time in my life where I was…_that_ girl. The nerd that knows everything and is ugly and nobody wants to be her friend. I've been writing ever since then, even though I've moved on from that phase. I feel comfortable with a pen in my hand, sitting in front of a lined canvas and making a picture appear with words."

I look at Cora as if I'm seeing her for the first time. How could she be _that_ girl? Those people are insane whoever they are. Cora's a great person; you just have to look deeper than the surface, which is probably where they stopped.

It starts snowing and we look up at the white fluff. Cora smiles and giggles. She closes her eyes and catches snowflakes on her tongue. I can't help but stare as she becomes covered in snowflakes.

That's when I realize something life changing:

I'm falling hard for Cora.


	3. Chapter 3: My Favorite Things

**Sorry I haven't posted in awhile. To make up for it I'm posting two chapters.**

**Disclaimers: Rogers and Hammerstein own 'My Favorite Things' not me and Eros Ramazzotti owns 'Se Bastasse una Canzone'**

**Enjoy!**

***Cora***

We get to the restaurant and I start brushing snow off myself. Nick pats away a bit from my hair and I blush. I wish that I hadn't been crushing on him for the past two years and brush away a bit from his hat. The host comes over and shows us to a table in the back.

"This place has _the_ best waffles in the world," I say, sitting down across from Nick.

"You can say that again," he says with a smile. He pauses as if he remembers something and pulls out a small black case. "Excuse me for a minute, please," he says. "Got to check my blood sugar."

"Sure," I reply.

He heads down towards the restroom. I flip open the menu and try to determine what I'm going to have. Correction: what I'm going to have on top of the waffle. I decide the waffle itself will fill me when Nick returns.

"Good news: my blood sugar's low," he says, sitting down.

"Um, I thought that was a bad thing," I say.

"Normally: yes, but since it's low I can have syrup," he replies, opening his menu and closing it immediately. "All set to order."

A waiter places two glasses of water in front of us.

"Hey, Mark," Nick says.

"Hey, Matt," the waiter replies. I give Nick a confused look.

"Matt's my codename," he says. "It's so that people around us don't think I'm…well, me."

"Can I start you two off with something to drink?" Mark asks.

"Actually," I say, "I think we're ready to order."

"Okay, then," he says. "What can I get you?"

"I'll just have a Belgium waffle and a cup of coffee," I reply, handing him my menu.

"The usual?" Mark asks.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmm, gimme some bacon too," Nick says. Mark looks at him. "My blood sugar's low, Mom." Mark nods and takes Nick's menu too.

"Come here often?" I ask.

"Yeah, it's a New York stop," he says as Mark puts two cups of coffee down. Nick points up at him. "He's the son of the owner we met when we were nine."

"Ten," he corrects. "That's when I was on floor duty."

"And look how far you've come," I say with a smile. He smirks back and moves onto a different table.

"So you're a sophomore, right?" Nick asks. "Have you started the great college freak? Or does that start in junior year?"

"Probably in junior year for most people," I reply. "I already know where I want to go though?"

"Where's that?"

"There's a college up in Vermont that I'm looking into."

"Why Vermont?

"Aiden goes to school here and it's cool. New York is a cool place and we always want to visit him because we get to go to New York. Vermont, it's freezing, it's far, no one knows how to ski or snowboard and there's not much else to that Vermont is famous for. No one's going to visit me."

"And that's what you want out of college? Distance from your family?"

"I just want to be independent. If I go to school somewhere like Worcester, they can see me anytime. If I go to Vermont, they won't want to see me that often because it will mean braving the cold for them. Plus a change of scenery might provide the inspiration I need to kick start my career."

"And what's your career?"

"I plan on being an author." Nick smiles at me. "What do you want to do?" I start adding sugar to my coffee and look up quickly.

"Hmmm, that's a tough one," Nick says, rubbing his chin. "I'm going to have to go with car salesman." He smiles.

"Ooh, that's a great job," I laugh.

As we eat, I think about how easy it is to talk to Nick. He's so down to earth and normal that I barely even remember how famous he actually is. I also forget that I'm supposed to be speechless due to the same reason and due to the fact that I have a bit of a huge crush on him. Nick just makes me feel comfortable and I forget everything else that's important. He's with me and that's all I care about.

Wow that corny. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that…well, I kind of get lost when I'm with Nick, but not like 'oh we're in love I never want to leave you'. More like I wish that I could just pause time so it'll stay that way forever, you know that feeling? You probably do.

So anyways.

When we're done eating we realize that we have some time to kill before we meet my family at Madam Tussauds so we walk through Central Park a bit.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Nick asks as we sit down on the edge of a fountain.

"I'm just thinking about how weird it is to hang out with you," I reply. He hands me a penny.

"Good weird or weird weird?" he asks. I flip the coin in to the fountain and wish that Nick would like me back.

"Good weird," I reply. It starts to snow again. I look up and two snowflakes fall: one on my nose and another on my eyelashes. "_Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes,_" I sing quietly. "_Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes_."

"_Silver white winters that melt into spring_," Nick harmonizes.

"_These are a few of my favorite things_," we sing together. I drop out as he leads to the chorus.

"Why'd you stop singing?" Nick asks when he realizes I stopped.

"Because my horrible voice will ruin your amazing one," I reply. Nick shakes his head.

"Your voice isn't horrible," he says. "I think it's pretty."

"Thank you, but flattery doesn't change the truth," I remark. "Shall we walk a bit more?"

"Sure," he replies. We start down a path and begin playing the Game of Favorites again.

"Favorite animal?" I ask.

"Dog," he replies. "Favorite ice cream flavor?"

"Mint chocolate chip. Favorite food?"

"My mom's homemade lasagna. Favorite word?"

"Floccinaucinihilipilification. Favorite sport?"

"Baseball. Favorite song?"

"'Se Bastasse Una Canzone' di Eros Ramazzotti. Favorite—"

"Eros? Is that Greek?"

"Italian, hello!"

"What's it sound like?"

"Here." I pull out my iPod and offer him a headphone. I hit the play button. We bob our heads through the first verse. Nick pulls me to him during the chorus and starts dancing with me.

Just an FYI when you have a crush on a guy like Nick, who does things like that, and you don't know how to take them, and you met him under twenty-four hours ago, it's a _little bit_ extremely awkward. Especially when it's a five minute song.

..._Se bastasse una grande canzone per parlare di pace…_

"What does it mean?" Nick asks, letting go of me as it ends.

"If a song were enough," I reply. "At least that's what my freshman Italian teacher said when she played it for the class."

"What about the rest of it?" he asks.

", non lo so!" I reply. "It's kind of like a ballad because of the first line. '_Se bastasse una bella canzone a far piovere amore_'. But I probably am wrong about that because I'm wrong about stuff like that all the time."

"So he could be swearing and saying a bunch of bad things and you wouldn't know?" Nick asks.

"No," I reply. "Like I said, my Italian teacher last year played it for us so it wouldn't have any swears in it."

"Ah," he says. "It's nice. How does one find a song like that, may I ask?"

"iTunes," I reply. "Or I can burn you a copy on a CD."

"That sounds good. You could give it to me next time we see each other."

"Uh-huh." I pause for a second. "When will that be?"

"Soon, I hope." Nick smiles. "Come on, let's get to 42nd Street." He starts pretending to tap dance down the walk.

"Amateur," I say, rolling my eyes and performing a few steps from my 42nd Street dance from two years ago.

"Damn, girl," Nick says, staring at my feet.

"Did you just say damn?" I ask, shocked. "Why, Nicholas Jonas, wash your mouth out with soap!"

"Yeah, like you've never said that," he defends.

"That's different," I reply. "I go to public school."

"And I'm a human."

"So?"

"So that's my excuse."

"That's not a very good excuse, but I'll let it pass this time. Next time, though, you're in trouble."

"Yes, Mom," he says, dropping his head in shame. "Shall we?"

"Let's go," I reply. As we walk, I swing my arms by my side a bit.

Maybe it's an accident, maybe I'm dreaming, and maybe it's real, but I could swear that I feel Nick's hand slide into mine while we walk, just for a second.

I was probably just imagining it.

***Nick***

We exit the elevator and the room looks crowded even though it's practically empty. I see Miley by a column and start to hide. Then I realize that she's made out of wax and I straighten up.

"Thought she was real, huh?" Cora says, following my gaze.

"Is there anything you don't notice?" I ask.

"Yeah, there's a lot actually," I reply. Aiden motions for her to go to him. "Excuse me for a second," Cora pleads. She goes over to Aiden.

I'm not quite sure why, but I decide to go over and spy on her. So I hide behind Hugh Grant, right next to Miley.

"…such a jerk," I hear Cora say. "I couldn't believe him!"

"I warned you," Aiden says. "I told you he was no good."

"He's a boy! You're going to say that about all of them so that you don't feel old because I'm dating!"

I start to back up at that last word and start to knock Miley over. I grab her to keep her from falling. That's when I realize that I have no clue what Cora's dating life is like. She knows everything about mine, I'm sure (she strikes me as the obsessive fan type), but I don't know anything about hers. If she has a boyfriend there's a huge flaw in the epic plan I composed on the way here.

It's time to do some digging. So I make my way around Hugh Grant, inspecting him as I do. I nod and smile at the siblings when I'm on their side of the dummy.

"Hey," I say as Cora and I move towards Oprah. "What's up?"

"Not much, my brother's being big brotherly," she says, rolling her eyes. "You?"

"Just chilling with my buddy Oprah," I reply, resting my elbow on her shoulder and smiling. Cora blinds me with a camera flash.

"That looks pretty good," she says, turning the camera around so I can see. I look into her deep brown eyes.

"If this goes on facebook or something, you will die," I say.

"It's not going anywhere, but in an e-mail to you," she says, "…and my computer…and possibly an eighteenth birthday slideshow that your family is planning on making."

"I can deal with those three things; the internet: not so much."

We go through the exhibit. When we get to the hall of mirrors we get lost. After a lot of begging on my part, Cora goes with me through the famous horror chamber. My plan works perfectly and she clutches my hand through the whole thing. We come out at Rachel Ray and I realize that the VIP section is coming up. That's the section I'm in.

"I'll see you in a bit," I tell Cora. She nods and I quickly run down a level.

I rapidly try to decide if this is stupid. I come to the conclusion that it's not. The hand holding thing one the way from Central Park: _that_ was stupid. This, _this_ is genius.

"Yes, I am that one," I tell the photographer when she looks from me to the fake me. "I need a favor."


	4. Chapter 4: Separate Ways

***Cora***

I'm really pissed. Napoleon is taller than me. My history book said he was only five-foot-three. I'm supposed to be an inch taller than him, and yet I'm still shorter. My mother starts to take a picture and I stand on my toes. We slowly make our way through the historical figure hall.

Everyone goes to the elevator because my grandmother can't deal with the stairs.

"I'll meet you guys," I tell them. "I'm going down to the VIP section to see if Leonardo DiCaprio's back." Mom nods and I take off down the stairs. I round the corner and see the Jonas Brothers. They look really fake, except for Nick.

I go around him and place my arm on its shoulder and place my lips right next to its ear.

"Hi, Nick!" I say directly into his ear.

"Holy crap!" he yells, falling from a mixture of shock and lack of balance. He pulls me down with him and I laugh.

"That was priceless!" I howl. "You should have seen your face!"

"You are insane!" Nick says angrily, but he laughs after a second. "Why did you sneak up on me like that?"

"You weren't expecting me to," I reply, getting up.

"So you decided to scare me to death?" Nick gets up too.

"You going to do the same to me!"

"Touché." He pulls the real fake Nick from behind a curtain and puts it back where it belongs. Then he puts his hat back on and pulls the tip down like I'm used to seeing it now.

"It looks nothing like you," I say. Nick poses like the mannequin and I snap a photo before he can move. "Your freckles are screwed up, your nose is too big and your hair is a mess."

"You _are_ talking about the dummy, right?"

"Sure, let's go with that."

We meet up with the rest of our group and finish walking through the museum. Leonardo DiCaprio is no where to be seen. Needless to say I am upset. I type my frustration into the comments computer.

"Hey," Nick asks as we walk through the gift shop, "quick question: do you have a boyfriend?"

"Next topic, please," I reply, staring at a magnet.

"Come one," he presses. "It's a simple yes or no question."

"No," I reply. "I was supposed to go on my first date last Friday, but it got cancelled."

"Why?" he asks.

"It's none of your business why," I snap. "Sorry, I'm a little bitter about it."

"It's okay, I understand."

"How about you? Y'all got a steady?" Nick laughs.

"No, I'm single. Why? Are you interested?"

"You asked first. Are _you_ interested?"

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not."

"Listen to you, Mr. Elusive. Can we move on for real now, please?"

Nick starts talking about something random, but I'm not listening. I'm trying to piece this puzzle together.

***Nick***

I'm getting a phone call from home. It's surprising because Mom and Dad normally wait for me to call them. Then I realize that I haven't called them since Friday.

"Who is she?" Joe asks when I answer.

"What are you doing there?" I ask. Joe lives a few blocks away and normally visits every two weeks.

"Visiting Mom and Dad," he replies. "They said you haven't called, which means only one thing: you met a girl."

"Maybe I'm just busy," I hiss as Cora comes towards me.

"Yeah, busy flirting," he says. "Just give me a name."

"Hey, Cora," I say as she gets close. "Give me one second."

"Cora?" Joe repeats. "That's a different name."

"She's a different girl," I say. "Look I've got to go. I'm going—"

"—to Rockefeller Center so you can continue to be romantic and flirty," Joe finishes. "Take it slow, bro."

"I am," I insist. Joe laughs on the other end and I hang up.

"_How did he know I was going to Rockefeller Center?_" I wonder as I rejoin the Royces.

"Sorry," I say. "That was my family checking in."

We start walking and walk past a Starbucks.

"Need coffee?" I ask Cora.

"Yeah, I could go for a cup," she replies. We promise to meet everyone in a few minutes and duck inside.

"My treat," Cora announces, pulling out her wallet.

"Are you insane?" I ask, confiscating her wallet. "Gentlemen don't let ladies pay."

"But I can get a free drink," she insists, reaching for her wallet.

"No," I order. "We all have our ways and mine are old fashioned."

"That's fine," she says. "In fact, it's a very attractive feature, or so I think, but coffee, that's no big deal. You can let the girl pay for that, especially when she can get a free drink."

"I'm sorry that I've offended you. Here, give me your phone and I'll make it up to you." She hands me her phone and I fill myself into her contacts list. "Next time you hear I'm coming to town, call that number for front row tickets."

"You think this is front row ticket worthy?" she asks. "I want backstage passes too."

"Of course, what was I thinking?"

"I don't know. Hand me your phone." I give it to her. "Call this number," she says, handing it back to me as we get our coffee, "if you're bored past the hour of two-thirty PM eastern standard time."

"As you wish," I say.

We don't spend too long at Rockefeller center because the family needs to get home early so Cora can finish her homework.

"Why didn't you do it in study on Friday?" I ask.

"Because I didn't have a study on Friday," she replies. "Would you rather that I had skipped chorus to do homework?"

"No," I say. "You are forgiven."

"Yay!" she exclaims, hugging me.

I help the Royces bring down their luggage and load the car. I go over to Cora as Mr. Royce starts slamming the trunk repeatedly to close it.

"So," I say.

"So," she says. "It was great meeting you." She extends her arm.

"You too," I reply, ignoring her hand and hugging her. We are _way_ past handshakes. "I'll miss you," I tell her head.

"I don't know how I'll go on with out you, Nick!" she weeps mellow dramatically.

"Be strong, Cora," I encourage, fighting back fake tears. "Be strong!"

"I'll never forget you, Nick," she says. We both smile.

"Goodbye," I say after a minute.

"Cheerio," she replies. "Can I have one move hug for the road?" I wrap my arms around her tightly for the last time. "Your hugs are nice."

"Thanks," I reply. "Hang on, I almost forgot." I pull her Harry Potter book out from my jacket pocket. "It was really good. We'll have to talk about it sometime."

"You have to finish the series first," she says. "I'll ruin them for you if you don't."

"I'll have them read by the next time I see you," I promise. She smiles then climbs into the furthest seat back in her car. I push the seat into place and wave to her.

"Nick, can I have a word?" Mr. Royce asks.

"Yes, sir," I reply, moving to the side with him.

"Do you mean anything by your actions, boy?" he asks gruffly and father-like.

"Yes, sir," I admit. "And I'd like to speak with you about that."

And here's where my intricate plan begins.


	5. Chapter 5: Long Week

**I am sooo sorry that I haven't posted lately; to make up for it I have the rest of the story and I'll post a one shot. **

**Enjoy.**

***Cora***

We get home at eight and I immediately run up to my computer to commit the weekend to memory by writing into my diary. It just barely hits me that I actually spent the weekend with Nick Jonas when he sends me a text message.

Needless to say, my homework doesn't get done even though I'm until four o'clock that my head hits the pillow.

At five-thirty my alarm screams for me to get up. I'm wired on three Red Bulls and five cups of coffee until lunch when I crash and become too tired to function.

"CORA!" Lynne yells in my ear.

"GAH!" I shriek, jerking awake. The assistant headmaster glares at me. "What?"

"Wake up!" she orders. "You're not the only one that's tired. Crew takes a lot of energy."

"Lynne, I'm lucky if I got twenty minutes of sleep last night," I reply, pulling a thermos out of my lunch box and sniffing the strong coffee inside it. "I win."

"How late were you up?" she asks.

"Like four," I reply, gulping down a sip. I'm drinking it black by now because adding anything else will dilute the caffeine. "I was texting…"

"Jake?" Lynne offers.

"No," I reply, not wanting to tell her who I met in New York just yet. "Matt."

"Who's he?"

"A guy I met in New York. He's from New Jersey."

"Is he cute?"

"Extremely."

"Dibs!"

"Are you high? We texted for eight hours! If I don't kill him, he's mine!"

"I was kidding. Calm down.

"Sorry, I'm exhausted." I rest my head on my books as the bell rings.

"GRRRR!!!!"

***Nick***

"I'm home," I announce Monday afternoon, walking into the kitchen and dropping my keys on the counter. Mom turns around from the sink to give me a big hug and I realize how much I missed her.

"How was the city?" she asks.

"It was great," I reply. "Mark says hi and so does Scott. His mom's out of the hospital. It was nothing serious, just gallbladder removal."

"Well, thank God for that," she says, checking the oven. "Your brothers are coming over for dinner in a few hours. Why not go upstairs and unpack?"

"I nod and go up to my room. I throw my bag down on the floor then plop myself down on my bed horizontally. I've hit a block in the Plan.

Here's what I've go so far:

Get Mr. Royce's permission (check)

Talk to Cora every night (in progress)

Do something extremely romantic (when and what to be determined)

Sweep Cora off her feet and gallop into the sunset (see #3 [get a horse?])

"You're home?" Frankie asks, popping his head in the door.

"Yeah," I reply, not moving. He comes around the bed and looks down at my head.

"Joe said you've got a new girlfriend," he says.

"Working on it," I reply. "Any suggestions?"

"I'm nine, I don't care about girls. Peace." Frankie leaves and I sigh. I can't believe I just asked my little brother, who still believes that girls have cooties, for dating advice. Kevin would definitely be my best bet for actual advice. He is without a doubt the one that's had the best experience dating. After all, he is married.

I go downstairs at five-thirty and see my dad for the first time today.

"Oh, you're home," he says when I walk into the kitchen. "How was your trip?"

"Pretty good," I reply, sitting on a stool around the island.

"Joe says you met a girl in New York," Dad says, looking over the top of a letter he's reading.

"Good news travels fast," I say.

"Is it true?" Mom asks, smiling at me.

"Yeah," I reply. "She's Scott's roommate's little sister."

"Tell us all about her," Mom begs. "Where's she from? What's she like? How old is she? What's her name?"

"Her name's Cara," I say. "She's fifteen and from Boston. She's different. I don't think I've ever met a girl like her before."

"Different how?"

"It's complicated to explain. Did Kevin Get here yet?"

"Yes," Kevin says walking in the kitchen door, putting his keys in his pocket. Danielle is following after him. Maybe I should ask her for advice. She is a girl, maybe she knows what Cora would like. "You need me?" Kevin asks.

"Yeah," I reply. "Danielle too. Come on. Let's talk in the living room."

We hide in there.

"What can we help you with?" Danielle asks with a smile.

"I need help impressing a girl," I say. Kevin laughs. "Thanks for your support."

"Nick," he says. "_I_ go to _you_ for romantic advice. You must know something."

"Thirty hours," I say. "That's how long I've been trying to think of something. I'm drawing a blank. Nothing is coming to me." Danielle is biting her lip like she's thinking of something.

"I have no idea," Kevin says. He looks at Danielle. "Can you think of anything, darling?"

"I've got one idea," she says. "First, what are you willing to do for this girl?"

I think for a minute, contemplating my decision because it could change my life.

"I'll do anything," I reply.

"Okay," Danielle says with a smile. "You're going to turn into Mr. Romantic."

***Cora***

"Hello," I yawn into the phone Tuesday afternoon.

"Cora?" Nick asks. "Is that you or a hibernating bear?"

"That's funny coming from the reason I'm exhausted," I reply.

"Maybe if you said goodbye earlier…" Nick offers.

"Maybe if you call at a reasonable time…," I counter.

"Touché," he says. "Let's talk music."

"What about it?" I ask, turning on the television. There's supposed to be a snowstorm and I want to know if I have school tomorrow.

"Your favorite songs, what listen to, that kind of stuff."

"Why?"

"It'll help me get to know you better."

I rattle off a list of my top ten favorite and he doesn't laugh. I ask the question back and he gives me his top ten, most of which I know.

"Uh-oh," I say, looking at the clock. "It's quarter to five, I have to go kill myself."

"What?!" Nick asks, bewildered.

"I'm going skiing," I reply. "So visit me in the hospital and sign my cast and all that jazz."

"Okay," he says. "Really quick: what's your address?"

"Why?"

"I'm writing you a letter."

"I love letters!" I tell him my address and smile as I hang up. For some reason, I don't think I'll be getting a letter from Nick anytime soon.

I think hope I'm getting a package.

***Nick***

The week drags on forever. I call Cora everyday. She calls me on Wednesday because she has a snow day and is really bored. The more I talk to her, the more I like her. She does so much. She goes to school, dances three times a week and somehow finds time to write novels. Cora just amazes me!

I figure the Plan is going well and Friday I start preparation for parts three and four.

"I need two dozen black roses ready to pick up on Sunday," I tell the florist.

"What? Are you crazy?" he asks.

"No," I reply.

"Your girlfriend will hate you," he says. "You want red."

"I don't want red," I say. "I want black."

"This is for Valentine's Day, right?"

"Yes."

"You want red. If you give your girl black she'll cry then break up with you."

"You don't get it."-I'm starting to get angry-"She _loves_ black roses. They're her favorite flower. So I'm going to give them to her on Sunday."

"She likes black roses? Your girlfriend's a weirdo."

"Two things: One, she's not my girlfriend. That's why I need the flowers. Two, my name is Nick Jonas and I will tell the world to boycott your business if you do not have two dozen black roses ready to be picked up on Sunday."

"And at what time will you be by to pick those up sir?" the florist asks, suddenly more polite.

***Cora***

Saturday morning while I'm on facebook, Jake starts talking to me.

Three weeks ago, he started talking to me after a five month hiatus. Two weeks ago he asked me out. I had an aneurism or something and said yes. Three hours before the date he calls and asks if we can reschedule.

I cussed him out in Italian then hung up.

I hit the 'go offline' button. Five minutes later I have an inbox message from him and for some reason I open it.

"I know what you said the other day," it says. "Just let me explain why. I missed the train and my mom got mad and—"

I respond in chat.

"That is the stupidest apology I have _ever_ read," I type. "Next time, find someone who can write and make _them_ tell you how to apologize. PS a girl would be best because they know what they want to hear."

I log off before he can reply.


	6. Chapter 6: Falling into Place

**LAST PART! Hope you love it! Leave a review if you like. Feedback is **_**very**_** welcome.**

**P.S. I do not own "I'll Never Break Your Heart". It is the Backstreet Boys'.**

***Nick***

Everything is falling into place with the Plan. Kevin, Joe and I are in the basement talking over the piano. It feels natural now; all our important discussions happen over the piano. They're helping me record a song in our home recording studio down here. I have six hours until part three of the Plan commences and I still need to finalize the preparations, which I can't start until we've finished recording this. Plus I'm hungry and I don't have time to eat. That's the most annoying part.

"That chord doesn't sound right there," Joe comments. I play six measures.

"It sounds fine to me," I reply.

"I was talking about Kevin," he said.

"I'm playing exactly what he wrote," Kevin argues.

"You must not be because it sounds horrible," Joe comments.

"Something's wrong with your hearing because it sounds fine," Kevin counters. I try to butt in.

"What makes you think that I'm wrong?" Joe says.

"GUYS!!!" I yell, banging on the piano. "Break it up! Kevin, you're three measures ahead of us. Focus! We have twenty minutes to record this. I have to confirm everything and I _need_ to eat something before part three."

"You're really going crazy for this girl, you know," Joe says. "What if this doesn't work?"

"It'll work," I assure him. "This is perfect."

"But what if—," Joes starts.

"Joe," Kevin says with authority, "Nick told us himself that Cora's a hopeless romantic. Danielle was the same. This will definitely."

"She's not a hopeless romantic anymore?" Joe asks.

"Well, she's married to me. Why should she be hopeless?" Kevin replies. I start playing the song to get their attention. We rehearse three more times before recording it.

"Nick," Joe says as the CD slides out. I pick up a sharpie and label it, "Next time take it millenniums slow."

But he doesn't understand that every second I waste "taking it slow" is another second for _the enemy_ to take my place.

***Cora***

I wake up early on Valentine's Day. Normally, I hate it, but this time it's actually quite exciting. Maybe the Jake scenario has something to do with it, but I don't feel like I'm on the same level of hopeless romantic I was last year.

I take a warm shower, throw on my favorite V-neck red top and run downstairs to check facebook. I'm on no more than ten seconds when Jake IM's me.

"Look," he writes, "I know I screwed up, but I can make it up to you."

"How?" I type.

"Well, I'm in town and I want to know…"

He pauses for suspense.

"…will you be my Valentine?"

This catches me completely off guard. For, literally, five minutes, I star at the screen and try to figure out an answer. My hands brush against the keyboard and the doorbell rings. I look out the shades in the study and leap up without even closing the browser. I throw open the door.

"Hey," Nick says plainly. As if it's normal for him to be on my front porch at nine o'clock in the morning.

"Card my foot," I say, smiling widely and leaning against the doorframe. "What are you doing here?"

"Happy Valentine's Day?" he offers, shrugging his shoulders. His hands are behind his back.

"Happy Valentine's Day," I accept, throwing my arms around his neck. I catch a glimpse of cellophane and smell a flowery fragrance. "You didn't," I say.

"I did," he replies, swinging his right arm and handing me a bouquet of black roses.

"They're beautiful!" I exclaim, taking them from him and inhaling directly from them.

"And what goes better with flowers," he continues, swinging his other arm forward, "than music?" He shows me a CD titled Please Be Mine. He puts it in the boom box on the end table of the front porch and presses play.

_I'll never break your heart. I'll never make you cry. I'd rather die than live without you!_

The lyrics are extremely familiar. The voice is too, but it's not the Backstreet Boys with whom I had grown up hearing it sung. I recognize the voice as Nick's.

"I know it's one of your favorites," Nick says with a smile.

"Did you rerecord all of them?" I ask. He nods.

"I _did_ put a couple of extras on there," he said. "Like this one." He fast forwards to the last track then looks at me.

I don't know this one at all. Nick's singing about a girl he just met that he's falling for. Something about dancing in the snow and eating breakfast at our favorite place…

"Oh my God!" I whisper, looking at him. "Did you write this?"

"Yeah," he says, "on the plane back from New York. With that out of the way, I need to ask you something."

"What is it?" I ask, suspecting I know what it is.

"Will you be my Valentine?"

I pull out my phone and type an answer to Jake then show it to Nick. His face falls as I hit send.

"With that out of the way," I say, "how can I say no to someone who traveled halfway across the country to see me on Valentine's Day, bearing music and my favorite flowers?"

"I thought you just did?" Nick says, his face crinkling in confusion.

"No," I say. "I said no to Jake. I'm about to say yes to you."

I am barely conscious of what I'm doing as I place my hand on his cheek and softly press my lips against his. I feel him wrap his arms around my waist and I move mine to surround his neck. We stand there for what could be forever, I can no longer tell time, until we hear a sharp rap on the window from the study. My dad waves at us and we wave back. Nick looks at me.

"Breakfast?" he asks.

"Let me get my shoes," I reply.

We walk to IHOP so we can spend more time together. Nick holds my hand the whole way and every five steps he kisses me on the cheek so that, by the time we reach the restaurant, I'm flushed fuchsia.

About halfway through breakfast I excuse myself to quickly take a call from Rose.

"Hey," she says. "Are you busy?"

"Very," I reply, smiling over at Nick. "I'm on a date."

"Ooh, with your _love_?" she asks tauntingly.

"I think so," I reply. She squeals in my ear. "But for now let's just call him a February Spark."

**THE END**

**Thanks for reading!**


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